(Dedicated to Bash… this nigga’s peeps will up me, and give me props on my shit. This nigga stays hatin’ on me though. Sayin’, whenever I beef with him in Open Mic, he’ll respond. So where you at dunny? I’m waitin’…)

I never carry a knife player, I carry a fuckin’ cactus//
And you’re bound to get poked like some hoe on a mattress//
Fuckin’ believe me when I tell ya Bash, I run with axes//
You’re fixin’ to get burnt quick, like a hundred matches//
Ya see, my flow is fantastic, make ya neck strectch like elastic//
I win best scene at the grammys, ‘cuz i’m so dramatic//
Don’t act like you’re gangsta, i’ve seen more woman that’re hard//
Wannabe’s gonna get bit if he keeps swimmin’ with sharks//
This fuckin’ fish is weak, the 9 darkens ya gills//
Running at Lord E boy, you need to sharpen your skills//
On the street they call me shortstop, i’m always throwin’ first//
Blessed with toxic lungs, so I just roll with the curse//
Like Halloween, ya crew gets fuckin’ smashed like pumpkins//
My heater is a heartbreaker, ‘cuz it’s always dumping//
I’m best known to rob convenience stores so confidentally//
I never hurry up and buy, pop the clerk immediately//
Is y’all listening to this, damn my flows is something//
Give brain to the gat, when the pistol blows, that’s how you know I’m comin’//
You’re on the t.v.? You best leave ya picture glued the set//
I got a tech named landlord, that you owe two months rent//
6 o'clock news, someone got rolled, two clips in the van//
I'll leave this bitches ass everywhere, like the shit hit the fan//